


Second Chances They Don't Ever Matter (People Never Change)

by dredshirtroberts



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Mentions of past child abuse, Multi, Timeline What Timeline, found family shenanigans, seriously just...try not to think too hard about how old everyone is or is not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dredshirtroberts/pseuds/dredshirtroberts
Summary: (tags and warnings subject to change)Celebrating Midsummer in Ard Carraigh was supposed to be fun and relaxing and a chance for all of Geralt's found family to unwind a little. No one expected that *time* would unwind a little as well.Underqualified adults taking care of overqualified children and trying to undo the worst blurse the continent has ever seen. Will they make it to Kaer Morhen? Will they fix the curse? Does Ciri hold the entire family's collective three braincells? I don't know either! Let's find out!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Second Chances They Don't Ever Matter (People Never Change)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> A few notes:
> 
> This was intended to be a silly little idea just out of nowhere maybe I'd RP it with the ever delightful [ConcertConfetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/concertconfetti/pseuds/concertconfetti) ([@concertconfetti](concertconfetti.tumblr.com) and [@eldritcharchive](eldritcharchive.tumblr.com) on Tumblr) because they've let me use their OC Ashwood of Daevon again. 
> 
> And then I wrote 10k words in five hours which is now what you'll be reading here as chapter one of whatever this becomes!
> 
> I have No Idea where this is going! :D
> 
> OCs:  
> Mieczyk is my OC, he's fairly well described here, and the most you need to know about him at this point is that he's been regularly traveling with Lambert and Aiden for several years. I fondly refer to them as the Cactus Trio because they're all a lil prickly and Mieczyk shows up in almost every story I write about The Witcher now. The literal only one he doesn't is the one shot Modern AU Laiden one I did, and that's because he hasn't shown up in that universe at that point yet but he is Definitely In That Universe, and I'll eventually get around to actually writing that stuff down one day.
> 
> Ashwood of Daevon, as stated above, belongs to ConcertConfetti, my queer-platonic partner and at this point I consistently forget he's not part of the actual canon of The Witcher so...he's in almost every The Witcher thing I've written so far where Eskel is involved. If you want to know more about him or read his original iteration, go check out the links above! The main thing to note about him here is that he is a trans-man, and is Aiden's brother. And is a mage. That's pretty well defined in the work I think but I figure it can't hurt to reiterate before you get into it.
> 
> I did my best to catch my tense switches but if you notice a present tense in the middle of a bunch of past-tenses, please let me know and I'll try to fix it.
> 
> I have...hopes that this will eventually have relationship dynamics discussed in it (not that anyone will be children when those relationships are actually explored) but at this point this is pretty much just Gen with hints at what there might be later in the background. No one is together yet.
> 
> ...I'm trying to think if there's ANYTHING else i need to mention first. I don't think so. If you find I'm missing important tags or warnings at any point, or if I forget to update them in the future for upcoming chapters, do please let me know. However, I will not be taking criticism or commentary on whether or not you find the characters OOC or not. Because I don't care. This is my story, I'm writing it for fun, and I've watched all of four episodes of the Netflix series, watched about 2 hours of gameplay while someone else was playing, and frankly I just Do Not Give A Shit. Fight me.

Mieczyk and Jaskier made their way into the bustling capitol of Ard Carraigh, the bright summer sun shining down on them even though it was still early morning. Jaskier strummed his lute, humming the song he’d been composing for the midsummer festival they were heading to. A shout from ahead caused both of their heads to shoot up as they watched a figure in the distance waving an arm broadly.

“That looks like…” Jaskier narrowed his eyes to squint at the figure who was _just_ outside of visual range, “...Ashwood?”

“It’s _Aiden,_ Jaskier.” Mieczyk rolled his eyes fondly, “Ashwood wouldn’t be able to see us clearly from that far away.” He waved his arm broadly, trying hard not to unseat himself from his horse as Jaskier nudged his forward faster. Pegasus decidedly did _not_ increase his speed, choosing instead to keep pace with Mieczyk’s mare.

“Pegasus, my good man, you are not going to get very far with Delilah. I appreciate that you’re trying, but it’s going to prove a smidge difficult seeing as you have no balls to back up your advances,” Jaskier chattered at his horse.

“They always say mounts take after their owners,” Mieczyk teased.

“That is rude, and also offensive. I have balls!”

“Hmm, sure,” Mieczyk grinned, “and whomst shall I implore for proof of this? Geralt?”

Jaskier blushed faintly, “He...is very respectful and doesn’t look when we’re bathing. And no, you could ask one of my many other paramours across the continent!”

“The ones whose husbands have threatened your balls, or the ones you couldn’t get into the bedroom?”

“This is slander and libel and I won’t have you spreading these lies about me! You’re just as bad as Marx, I swear.”

“I’m better looking than Marx at least,” Mieczyk chuckled, kicking Delilah into a lively trot which she took to eagerly, putting distance between herself and Pegasus. Jaskier yelped as Pegasus picked up his pace to keep up, not expecting his formerly-reluctant mount’s sudden increase in speed. He strummed a sour note or two as he attempted to adjust in his seat and not fall off of the horse.

“I will give you that. And there’s a proof: you’ve _seen_ my balls. You know I have them!”

“Hmm, you could have lost them since then. It’s been a number of years, my friend.”

“You are the _worst.”_

“You love me.”

* * *

“Do you see them? Aiden, do you see them?” Ashwood was hanging off of Lambert’s shoulder, trying to get a better vantage on his tiptoes. Aiden stood in the middle of the path waving his arm like a loon at two horses approaching from the south.

“What are you, some sort of limpet? There is a perfectly serviceable fence _right there.”_ Lambert groused, not doing anything to actually discourage Ashwood from using him as a climbing post.

“I think so. What color was Jaskier’s horse again?”

“Grey, I think?” Geralt hummed from where he was sitting next to the fence Lambert had indicated, whittling at a small piece of wood.

“Well, it’s a grey horse. And a brightly colored peacock atop it—oh no wait, yeah, that’s Jask alright.” Aiden grinned wide, crinkling the tawny skin around the scar that stretched across his nose and cheeks. His dark auburn hair was pulled back into a low tail that curled between his shoulder blades. 

“When are we expecting Eskel and Triss to show up again, Geralt?” Lambert asked, his hands on his hips as he glanced away from the approaching travelers which were looking more and more like their expected guests.

“Should be later today, dearest,” Yennefer said, leaning forward on the fence with her legs crossed underneath her, casually laying her cheek in her hand. Ciri flopped against her shoulder, and Yennefer’s free hand played absently with her thin, grey-blonde hair, a small, fond smile playing at her lips. “Triss would have sent word via xenovox if plans had changed.”

“Thank you, _Geralt.”_ Lambert snarked, scrunching up his nose in an almost sneer, “You know, you should get that looked into, for a minute there I could have sworn you sounded like Yennefer.”

“I did.” Geralt said, a smile on his face. His family was safe and happy and all coming together to have a nice, calm, peaceful celebration of midsummer. Said family had gotten a bit bigger than he’d anticipated after taking in a bard, a sorceress and a child surprise that Destiny had given him, as the bard had a best friend, the sorceress had helped raise his child and had a sorceress friend, and Lambert had acquired a Cat Witcher as a friend, “It’s something new I’m trying. One day I hope to be as pretty as she is.” He grinned up at Yennefer and batted his eyelashes until she kicked him gently in the shoulder.

“Ugh, don’t be gross at Yenna.” Ciri whined, using all of her seventeen years of sass she’d picked up from Geralt’s various friends and acquaintances, “She’s a _lady_ and deserves better.”

Yennefer kissed Ciri’s head gently, allowing for a few moments of softness for her surrogate daughter, before shoving the teenager off her shoulder, “Move, my ugly one. It’s too warm for you to lay on me.”

“It’d be less warm if you didn’t wear _black velvet_ in the middle of _summer.”_ Ciri danced away, turning her attention to the road where the two riders were far closer and even her human eyes could make out Jaskier’s rather absurd hat. “What on earth is on his _head?”_

“I told you it was a peacock on that horse, not a man.” Aiden laughed, cupping his hand over his copper-green eyes to shield him from the sunlight, the cat-like pupils widening slightly from barely visible slits to recognizable lines.

“Be nice, he’s trying to be fashionable,” Ciri made a face as Yennefer defended the bard, “He’s not doing it very well, but it’s good to appreciate the effort being made.”

“I can’t believe Mieczyk would let him wear something that outrageous,” Lambert remarked, Ashwood still clinging to him and practically vibrating in place, the mage’s bright green eyes sparkling in the summer sun.

“No one said either of them had good taste, dearheart,” Ashwood teased, finally giving up on trying to use Lambert as a climbing pole, “I mean, Mieczyk did choose to travel with you and Aiden. I’d say that discounts his judgement calls quite a bit.” He danced out of the way of his brother and Lambert’s arms swinging wide for him for a playful slap, dashing forward in the road to meet the two riders.

Ashwood’s hair was the same color and texture as Aiden’s but the undercut style was more similar to what Geralt currently sported, the hair on top of his head pulled back into a loose bun that bounced as he jogged on the dirt road, his simple breeches and shirt quickly becoming covered in road dust from the dry ground that had baked in the sunshine for days on end now. As he approached the riders and was able to clearly make out that it was indeed Jaskier and Mieczyk, he slowed, grin wide on his face. He brushed some of the flyaway hairs from off his face and behind his slightly pointed ears as Mieczyk and Jaskier halted their horses to dismount and continue their approach on foot.

Mieczyk landed a little too solidly, wincing as his ankles twinged with the motion, but he was quickly distracted from the discomfort to be wrapped tightly in a hug.

“Hello, Ashwood!” He greeted, grinning into the taller man’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around Ashwood’s waist as he was partially smothered by the mage’s shirt. “I take it you’ve missed us?”

“Yes! Goodness! It’s been ages,” Ashwood pulled back only to carefully move around Mieczyk’s horse to greet Jaskier with a similarly tight hug. “We’ve all been waiting for you. Triss and Eskel are to show up soon as well.”

Jaskier draped his arm around Ashwood’s shoulders as they broke apart from their own hug, taking Pegasus’ reins in one hand as he leaned on Ashwood and Mieczyk came to Ashwood’s other side, “We have missed you lot too! It’s going to be great to have everyone in one place for a few days. Letters and missives are so slow sometimes!”

“You _could_ keep the xenovox I gave you handy,” Ashwood pointed out as they continued down the road to where the rest of the group were gathered.

“That would require him to not lose half his belongings running out of town every other day or so.” Mieczyk rolled his eyes as he shook his legs out a little, the muscles tight and stiff from the long ride.

“You’ve _lost_ it?”

“I haven’t _lost_ it, no.” Jaskier reached around Ashwood to thwack Mieczyk’s leather-covered shoulder gently, “It’s just in the bottom of my bag and _someone_ is jealous because he isn’t getting any action while we’re on the road.”

“I’m getting on just fine, and you best shut your mouth. Ciri is here,” Mieczyk gestured to the blonde girl, “and you know how Geralt is with that sort of talk around her.”

“It’s so strange that it’s Geralt and not Yennefer who complain about what she hears and says, when Geralt’s objectively the worse of the two.” Jaskier mused, his steps long and somehow swaying slightly despite not only being completely sober but also having Ashwood to lean on.

“Stranger that either of them would let her anywhere near Lambert if they’ve got such staunch objections,” Ashwood snickered as they approached. 

Geralt shifted to his feet, his whittling tucked away into one of his many pockets in his light armor, eager to take the horses and lead them to the barn where Roach and Little Horse II were being kept. Hugs and greetings were exchanged among the group, Mieczyk quickly being looped between Lambert and Aiden and carted off to wild unknowns, probably to cause mischief as was their general modus operandi.

As soon as Jaskier’s things were settled into one of the four rooms that had been rented for their group to stay in, Ciri immediately began begging for him to start playing.

“Please, Jaskier? Just a few songs. Or one! One song is fine!”

“Dear girl, someone _must_ teach you how to haggle properly,” Jaskier teased, laughing brightly as he immediately swung his lute to his front, picking at the thin gut strings carefully and frowning as he adjusted the tuning, “What song would you have me play first? I must save my voice and fingers for later tonight, you know!”

“Which is why you were playing the whole ride here?” Mieczyk asked as the trio arrived in the doorway, leaning into the room without entering.

“Oh hush, you curmudgeonly old man,” Jaskier shot back playfully, rolling his eyes, “You’re only complaining because my songs were about more beautiful people than you.”

“Likely, as I’m not exceptionally good looking. Then again, you really can’t talk,” Mieczyk grinned, lopsided and sharp with a friendly glint in his eye, years of friendship allowing for easy banter back and forth, “Seeing as how you’re the most garish bird on the tree of the Continent.”

“What have I told you about lies and slander?” Jaskier pouted a little as Ciri giggled. 

Aiden frowned down at Mieczyk with a tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips, “What are you talking about, little adder? You’re very pretty!” He poked at Mieczyk’s shoulder and Mieczyk pretended it knocked him farther over than it had, rocking back into Lambert with an exaggerated gasp.

“Assault! You have assaulted me! Brigand! Rogue!” Mieczyk clutched at his chest as he collapsed against Lambert, who caught him and wrapped his arms around the short man’s shoulders, glaring at Aiden though he had to fight a large grin of his own.

“How dare you, Aiden? He is fragile! And _very_ pretty!” Lambert lifted Mieczyk up a little bit, shoving his face into the short man’s neck and blowing a loud, wet raspberry into the skin there, causing Mieczyk to shriek with a laugh and attempt to shove him away. 

Ashwood shook his head, chuckling, as everyone’s attention was diverted from Jaskier briefly to watch Mieczyk attempt to tussle with Aiden and Lambert. He tapped Jaskier’s elbow gently and gestured over to the window a little with his head. Jaskier smiled—a little more subdued than before, and followed the mage over.

“How’s he been?” Ashwood asked, his voice low so as not to disrupt the full-on wrestling match going on in the very entrance of the room. His meadow-green eyes glanced over to Mieczyk who was currently sitting on top of both Lambert and Ashwood like he was playing King of the Mountain with the two witchers as his mountain.

Jaskier also looked over to his friend, his smile widening slightly as he saw his friend toppled as Lambert pressed himself up over Aiden, as the Cat witcher wriggled out from underneath to grab and pull the diminutive human down to the floor. “He’s doing well, I think. The salve you made for him last time we met up has done wonders. He only uses the braces sometimes on really bad days where we do more walking than riding.”

Ashwood smiled, straightening a little, “And no other issues have come up? And you? You’ve been well?”

Jaskier waved his hand dismissively, “I’ve been perfectly fine, my dear man. We’ve both been quite well, actually. Since everything has calmed down we’ve taken back to the road. I have lots of material to work with now—a few new songs for tonight, even!” He smiled at Ashwood, grateful for his friend’s care, “Thank you. We probably wouldn’t be able to do that if not for you helping him. Your knowledge and expertise are invaluable to us. He won’t say anything but… I know he’s been feeling better. He wouldn’t be doing all of that–” Jaskier gestured to where Mieczyk had Aiden in a headlock with his arms, his thighs clenched tightly around Lambert’s neck, “–if he didn’t feel well. Melitele’s _tits,_ Mieczyk, the world’s already short on Witchers, don’t strangle two of the ones we _like.”_

“They started it!” Mieczyk said, cranking his arm back a little for extra pressure. Aiden was still laughing, full breath, and clearly was unaffected by the headlock, and Lambert was already pulling Mieczyk’s legs up over his head and tugging the man up by his ankles. Mieczyk gave a startled cry as he was lifted upside-down off the ground, immediately releasing Aiden and then begging for his help, “Get this brute off me! Aiden! Tell him to let me go!”

Jaskier shook his head and turned back to Ashwood, “Seriously. This is… more than I think either of us could have hoped for when he started having trouble. You’re a gods-send.”

Ashwood smiled, his arms crossed in front of his chest comfortably. “No, just glad you both finally opened up that there was a need—and that I could actually do something about it. I’ve more of the salve if you need it, by the way.”

“We’ll definitely take more of it,” Jaskier nodded before he was drawn away from their conversation by Ciri remembering she’d wanted a song, now that the pile of witchers and Mieczyk had calmed down to a sedated panting on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as insults were exchanged between the three fondly.

Ashwood watched Jaskier pretend at being reluctant as he allowed Ciri to drag him over, watching the gears turn in his head to find a song that he could play that he wouldn’t end up playing again later that night. Yennefer groaned as the first few bars of Fishmonger’s Daughter started up, despite the raucous cheers from literally everyone else in the room. Ashwood grinned, shaking his head. His toe tapped on the floor to the beat as Aiden and Lambert’s voices joined Jaskier’s in, Lambert hauling himself up off the floor to swing Ciri up onto his back to gallop around the room like some sort of two-legged, witcher-shaped horse. Aiden picked Mieczyk up and began swinging him around the room like they were pair-dancing, leading despite his hold on Mieczyk being more of the following arm-position.

Geralt was leaning on the doorframe, his golden eyes bright and mirthful as he watched his family laugh and dance and sing. The activity stopped suddenly as a whirling vortex of Chaos opened up in the corner of the room and two figures stepped out of a portal. Had Ashwood and Yennefer not sensed Triss’ magical signature in the portal, they would have alerted the others to be on guard, but as it was, everyone cheered, hands going up in the air as Eskel and Triss stepped out of the window into another location. From where Geralt stood, it looked like the stables just below, and he could see Scorpion leaning over his stall door to nip at Roach’s neck.

“I see the party has started without us!” Triss teased, laughter already in her voice as the music started back up while the portal closed. Lambert—still with Ciri on his back—pulled her into the dance to spin tandem to Aiden and Mieczyk as Jaskier started the music back up again. Mieczyk reached out on one of their passes around the room and grabbed hold of Eskel’s broad-shouldered form to try and stop them from spinning, his laughter breathless and exhausted. Eskel managed the handoff with ease, pulling the small man from Aiden’s arms, before replacing Mieczyk as Aiden’s dance partner, a grin stretching across his face despite the gnarled scars.

It was shaping up to be a delightful Midsummer celebration.

* * *

The festival began around mid-afternoon, filled with people bustling around booths set up for extra market space, crowns of flowers and wheat adorned people’s heads, and music filtered through the air as the scents of food cooking for the large feast wafted above and through the crowds. Jaskier’s songs were hits, and his performances were well received as he played off and on throughout the afternoon, evening, and into the night. Food was eaten, ale and wine were drank, and everyone danced and made merry.

“It is so nice to see so many young people having fun,” The old woman murmured next to Jaskier, who blinked down at her. He’d been drinking, sure, but he hadn’t expected to be so drunk he’d literally missed her come up beside him to stand.

“Yes, it...it’s good. That everyone’s having a good time,” He agreed, stumbling a bit due to his inebriation and surprise. “It’s not. Uh. It’s not something they get a whole lot of,” He said, smiling a little as he watched Mieczyk clapping to the beat of the music being played. Yennefer and Ciri and Triss spun wildly around in a circle, laughing as Lambert and Aiden sparred together for an admiring crowd, Geralt calling the hits and keeping score for them. Ashwood and Eskel were seated off to the side speaking softly and smiling sweetly at one another. Yes, it was very good for his friends to have a good time together. They’d been through so much in their lives, they deserved fun and peace.

“Midsummer is a good time for second chances, hm?” The old woman hummed thoughtfully, her eyes twinkling when Jaskier turned his gaze back to her in confusion. He’d never heard that particular attribution to the holiday, but he wasn’t about to disagree with a woman who looked older than Geralt. “I think those who have lived harder lives should get a chance to… try again. Don’t you?” She smiled kindly, the twinkle in her blueing eyes kind but somehow still caused a chill to race up Jaskier’s spine, despite the warmth of the summer evening and the large bonfire in the center of celebrations. 

“I… suppose?” He tried, still probably too drunk for this conversation.

“Yes. Yes I think they should get a second chance.” The woman seemed to be speaking more to herself. Jaskier felt a second frisson of apprehension tremble up his back and he shook it out. He turned back to his friends and watched them have fun, deciding saying anything further was just inviting trouble. He had learned enough in his travels with Geralt to know that cryptic words from old ladies never tended to end well if you questioned them.

He looked back to the old woman after a period of silence and she was… gone. Just… gone.

And Jaskier probably should have remembered that it wasn’t the questioning of the cryptic words that got people in trouble, but the words themselves. But he didn’t.

* * *

The next morning Jaskier woke with a blinding headache. He groaned as the sunlight streamed in through the window of the inn they were staying at. He reached over blindly to where his bed partner would normally be lying if he’d had one—and if he was as drunk last night as his head felt, there was almost assuredly at least one partner in his bed this morning—and felt… a very small body.

Jaskier squinted against the bright light and smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, attempting to dislodge the taste of Dead Thing from the orifice as he tried to wake up and find out why there was a _child_ in his bed.

He glanced over to the side to see… yes it was indeed a child. With bright red hair. Two children, in fact: a redhead and tow-headed child, curled like quotation marks towards one another. He blinked the sleep and hangover from his eyes as he took in the two sleeping figures.

Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief that not only was he completely dressed, but the two children also seemed to be wearing sleep shirts—overly large, perhaps, but sleep shirts nonetheless. The redhead’s was a startling black color. In fact, it almost looked like…

“Jaskier?” The redhead groaned, rolling over and scrubbing at his eyes that opened and were a deep dark forest green as he stared up at Jaskier, Geralt’s undershirt drowning the boy.

Jaskier was a man of little shame. So he would openly admit to being startled at being addressed by a child of no more than twelve in his bed as he woke up from a night he mostly remembered, one that wore his friend’s shirt. The scream that Aiden would recreate later, however, was _not_ accurate.

There were several pounding footsteps and the door to the room he was sharing with Geralt and Mieczyk slammed open.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Eskel was taking up the majority of the space of the door.

“I… A child?” Jaskier gestured to the two children on the bed. The redhead was sitting up and looking not only startled and confused but also alarmed by Jaskier’s apparent discomfort with the situation. The blond, awakened by the not-scream, blinked blearily up from his pillow with one uncovered eye. “Children,” Jaskier corrected himself, remembering there were two of them.

“Jaskier? What’s wrong?” The redhead asked, shuffling forward before realizing that he was apparently only clothed in an overly large black shirt. He looked down and caught a glimpse of curling, red, shoulder-length hair, before looking back up at the group of people in the doorway, Eskel having come further into the room to allow the others to filter in behind him better. “What’s going on?”

The blond in the bed scrubbed his face as he sat up, wincing with the effort before breaking out into big, wet tears that slid down his face. “J-Jaskier? It- it _hurts._ Wh-why does it-” He broke out into sobs, half-words and fractured sentences hiccupping out between violent shakes of his chest and shoulders.

Jaskier was now in a proper panic—he was not so macho as to dismiss this fact. There were two children in his bed and his friends were missing and *both these children knew his name.*

“Shit.” Eskel breathed as recognition fell over his features, “Geralt?”

“Yeah?” The little redhead responded and Eskel collapsed down into a chair. Another scream from down the hall, this one clearly a child’s scream and they sounded in pain. Aiden and Triss, who had come after Eskel, both turned their heads at once towards the sound.

“Yen?” Geralt’s— _Geralt,_ holy _fuck_ —bright green eyes went wide as he seemed to recognize where the sound was coming from, before flinging himself from the bed and hurrying out the hall between Aiden and Triss down to Yennefer’s door, small bare feet pattering on the wood floor. Triss hurried off after him as Aiden’s eyes went wide. “Shit. _Shit,_ where’s Lambert and Ash?” Before turning around and heading down the other way where his brother and best friend were staying. 

Jaskier turned back to the crying child, who was openly sobbing and trying to scrunch up on himself.

“Oh, oh dearheart, dearheart don’t– it’s alright.” He cooed, moving to the bed. His greatest weakness had always been tearful children. He hated to see them crying. And when he got closer he saw what had this one in such a state.

His legs were twisted into angles that made it look like they’d been built on him wrong from the hip down, the bones misshapen and misaligned. “Oh, oh no.” He gasped softly, the tiny child—smaller than the redhea– than _Geralt_ —tucking himself into Jaskier’s side. 

“It _hurts,_ Jaskier,” The child cried into Jaskier’s chemise.

“Mieczyk?” Jaskier ventured, really truly hoping this was in fact his friend—and simultaneously very much hoping this was some horrible nightmare he would wake up from.

The tiny child whimpered in his arms, “It _hurts.”_

Jaskier gently adjusted so that Mieczyk—he was pretty sure it was Mieczyk—was settled in Jaskier’s lap, straightening his legs as best he could. It was more just setting them in a rough approximation of what Jaskier assumed straight for the misshapen legs were, but it was close. Cuddling Mieczyk close, wrapping arms around the tiny shoulders and rocking gently, he shushed the boy, “It’s alright, I know. I know it hurts. I’m so sorry, dearheart. It’s alright, don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

Eskel was still sitting in shock, not having looked away from where Geralt had sat, shaking his head from time to time. Triss eventually made her way back to their bedroom, holding two children by the hand. One was Geralt—redheaded and drowning in his adult-sized shirt, the size of a very tall nine year old or a very short twelve year old. The other was a tiny girl with facial paralysis and a twisted spine, hunching her over like a crone. Her eyes were a fierce violet and while her face was splotchy from crying, she had her current expression set in a stern frown, her chin lifted as best she could.

Eskel roused himself as they came in, “Where’s–” He tilted his head slightly and cursed, “Shit.” He stood and made his way out of the room towards where Aiden had gone. Triss glanced back where he was heading and then to Jaskier who was still cradling the other child.

“I… What’s going on?” Jaskier asked her.

“Clearly some sort of magic spell has gone awry,” The little girl sniffed disdainfully. Her violet eyes were sharp as she glared at Jaskier, daring him to say something.

“Yennefer, I take it?” He sighed, suddenly exhausted outside of his hangover and the late night previous.

“Yes,” She sneered a little, “It would appear so.”

“Right. Um. You wouldn’t. Happen to have anything for pain?” He glanced between the three of them hopefully.

“I might have something. If I don’t, Ashwood does. Come on, let’s go see.” Triss gestured a little with the hand holding Yennefer’s.

Jaskier gently arranged Mieczyk so he could carry him with as little jostling as possible. He was sniffing quietly in Jaskier’s arms, calming down slowly.

“I… I’m sorry, Jaskier. I– It hasn’t been this bad in years.” He whispered, his arms wrapping around Jaskier’s neck tightly as he hid his face in the other’s shoulder.

“I understand, dearest. I’ve got you. Let’s go see if we can make it less,” He soothed, running one hand up and down Mieczyk’s back as he tucked the other under his backside to lift and hold him steady as they stood. 

They made their way to the room Ashwood was supposed to have been sharing with Triss and Aiden, but had apparently shared with Lambert instead. Aiden was kneeling on the ground, two small children in front of him. One was another redhead, scowling darkly and looking like he wanted to fight the world. The other was a sobbing… girl?

“Shh, Ash. Ash it’s okay. It’s okay, we’re gonna fix it. I’m right here, we’re gonna make it better, _please_ don’t cry.” Aiden was speaking quietly and Jaskier suddenly realized the little… child was Ashwood. Not a girl. 

“I just- I’m fine. I’m not fine, but I’m- It’s just- I’ve _done_ this. I don’t want to do it again! Aiden! I thought I never had to do this again!” Ashwood was saying through the tears, hiccupping and sobbing alternately, “I don’t know– I don’t understand why I’m _crying.”_

“I know, look. Look, we’re gonna. We’ll figure this out. I… Triss. Triss, _help.”_ Aiden looked up from his position to Triss who had released Geralt’s hand to cover her mouth in surprise. Lambert was scowling until he caught Jaskier holding Mieczyk and his face fell.

“What… What’s wrong with his legs?” He whispered, pointing at Mieczyk’s limp limbs dangling from where Jaskier held him. Jaskier turned to block them with his body, defensive for his small charge—his _best friend._ But Lambert wasn’t trying to pick on someone for their differences, he looked genuinely concerned and Aiden glanced up to see Mieczyk and his face paled.

Jaskier shook his head silently, and Mieczyk tucked his face against Jaskier’s shoulder, clearly not interested in explaining, either.

Ashwood’s eyes caught sight of them, blinking a few times and sniffling to clear his sinuses before nodding, “I have. I have notebooks.” He said, pointing to his bags. “I– Let me get them.” He walked over with all the surety of a man ten times his age—possibly literally, he couldn’t be more than eleven—and rifled through his bags for the notebook before handing it to Jaskier who took it with his one free hand.

“Thank you.” He said, gratefully, “I… Mieczyk, dearest, is there any way I can set you down that won’t hurt?”

“Bed.” Mieczyk mumbled softly. “I can sit. Sort of.”

“Right, okay. We’ll get you set up. Uh. Is in here okay with everyone?” At several assenting nods, Jaskier arranged Mieczyk on the bed, his legs adjusted to a position that would hurt him less than what he’d woken up with. The poor thing was ruddy-faced and had tears still drying on his cheeks. The redhead from this room— _Lambert,_ Jaskier reminded himself—went over to the bed and hopped up on it. His wiry arms wrapped around Mieczyk’s shoulders and let the tiny boy rest on his chest, moving small hands over his back as the little blond swallowed thickly and sniffled again.

Yennefer’s sour face softened as she shuffled her way over to the bed as well, “I’m sorry it hurts, Mieczyk. Mine does too.”

“Is that why you screamed?” Geralt asked.

“It’s a little surprising to wake up in a state you haven’t been in in nearly a century, yes.” Yennefer said sardonically, rolling her eyes. “Help me up. I want to sit as well. You have no idea how uncomfortable it is to stand.”

Geralt gave her a small boost, like helping a lady up onto a horse too tall, hands around her waist and Jaskier’s heart clenched as he saw the motions of a man who wanted to be a knight in the actions of a pre-teen.

Jaskier settled himself into one of the chairs next to the window to leaf through the notebook Ashwood had handed him. Ashwood hoisted himself up into the chair beside him, his high voice clear and clinical as he instructed Jaskier on where to look. Aiden collapsed back onto the ground, scrubbing his eyes tiredly as Eskel ran his hand through his hair restlessly. Triss was pacing back and forth clearly trying to figure out what had happened.

Jaskier found the page Ashwood directed him to, a list of medications and herbs that had helped Mieczyk in the past, and a list of ones that hadn’t worked. He pointed to a couple of concoctions, “Do we have any of these?”

“I… Don’t think I have any prepared, no.” Ashwood shook his head, his breath hitching again, “I’m. I apologize. I’m…”

“It’s fine, you needn’t apologize to me,” Jaskier said, softly, running his hand through Ashwood’s riot of curly hair, loose and tangled down his back in a long curtain. He gently unsnarled a couple of tangles from the little boy’s hair. “It’s… it’s been quite the morning, hasn’t it?” He chuckled weakly to the room. He got mixed results. Ashwood huffed a breath that sounded a little too wet, Lambert scowled, Geralt raised a skeptical eyebrow and Yennefer rolled her eyes widely. Triss hummed, a hysterical note to it as Aiden collapsed back onto his back to stare at the rafters above them. Eskel let out a breath that was practically a growl and walked out of the room, down the hall.

He was stopped by Ciri exiting her room, “What’s… Eskel? Is everything alright?”

Eskel did not respond verbally, but clearly indicated where she needed to go for answers as she appeared at the door a moment later, “Good morning, Ciri.” Jaskier greeted, knowing that the only way he was going to keep himself together was to pretend that this was normal.

“I… Why have you stolen so many children, Jaskier?”

Jaskier gasped, offended. “I have _never_ stolen a single child in my entire life!” He exclaimed.

Ciri raised the same skeptical eyebrow that Geralt had not two minutes before, “So you’re starting a school then?” She gestured to the book in his hands and he sighed.

“No, this is one of Ashwood’s medical notebooks on Mieczyk. We’re in need of some assistance making something to help with his pain,” Jaskier gestured to the cuddle pile of children on the bed. “Ashwood is helping me figure out which ones will likely work best,” He gestured to Ashwood beside him and Ciri blinked, putting the pieces together.

“Ah. Right. Okay then. I’m… I’m gonna go see if Eskel needs help having his mental breakdown while I process this.” 

“If you could get some ginger, clove and willow bark, it would be greatly appreciated, Cirilla.” Ashwood said, calm and steady now that he’d had time to breathe. Ciri blinked and nodded.

“Sure. Uh. Lots or?”

“Extra wouldn’t go astray, dear.” Jaskier smiled, sure that some of his tired mania was showing in his eyes, but trying not to let it overtake his whole expression, “Thank you.”

“I’m going with you.” Geralt said, pushing himself up off of where he’d been leaning against the bed to follow Ciri.

“Uh…” All three adults and Ciri stopped and looked between one another, “Why?”

“To…” Geralt paused and frowned, “I…”

“It’s… probably best if you just stay here,” Ciri supplied, “I… I’ll be alright. Eskel will be with me,” She reassured the small red-headed child.

“If you’re sure.” Geralt sighed, looking dismayed, “I’d…”

“It’ll just be a bit, Geralt.” Jaskier said, “She’ll be fine. This is a safe city or we wouldn’t have come here in the first place.”

“Sure, safe.” Lambert scoffed, rolling his eyes and flicking his head to get his hair out of his eyes, “That’s why we’re all like this.”

“Lambert!” Mieczyk hissed, pain putting an extra edge into his irritated address, “Enough.”

“Fine.” Lambert sighed, still grouchy about it, “Fine, whatever. Safe. Sure.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” Ciri said, again, before turning to follow Eskel through the inn and out to find the herbs that Ashwood had requested.

Jaskier looked around the room, and unbidden the old woman’s words from the night before came to his mind, “Second chances…” He murmured softly, his hands still carding through Ashwood’s long hair, “Hmm.”

“What’s that?” Triss asked.

“Something someone said to me last night,” Jaskier admitted, “I…was several cups in by the time this little lady approached me. Tiny old hunched thing. Couldn’t have been less than eighty. Eyes going blue and everything.”

“What did she say?” Aiden had sat up properly, his sharp copper-gold gaze boring into Jaskier’s soul with their intensity.

“Something about second chances. I…let me think,” Jaskier closed his eyes and waved his hand as he fought through the hangover headache and alcohol hazy memories to try and remember what she’d said, “Something about Midsummer being good for second chances and she said that they deserved a second chance,” He summarized based on his admittedly spotty memory of the conversation. “She’d just showed up out of nowhere. I didn’t catch her leaving either.”

Triss’ brow creased in concern, “Aiden, your medallion. Is it…”

Aiden blinked and clutched his chest where his medallion normally lay. It was still. He shook his head. “No, it’s not…it’s not around us. And if it was magic last night, I don’t know that I would have noticed it.” He smiled ruefully.

Geralt huffed, “I still have mine on. It’s not vibrating either.”

“So…weird magic. Got it.” Jaskier hummed, fingering the page of the notebook idly. Ashwood made a distressed sound and he stopped his fidgeting fingers, allowing the boy to take the notebook from his hands and close it gently. Tiny fingers ran up and down the edges of the pages of the closed book, and Jaskier pretended not to notice.

“I’m not…I’m not familiar with this kind of spell work.” Triss admitted and Ashwood shook his head in solidarity.

“Me either,” He said softly. Jaskier turned his eyes to Yennefer who also shook her head.

“I think if I knew something like this I would have shared it by now. I’m not exactly looking forward to being in pain all the time again.” She sniffed disdainfully which was an incredibly precocious gesture on someone who couldn’t be more than ten or so.

Jaskier nodded. Right. Well. Great.

Great.

Eskel and Ciri came back, Eskel’s booted feet stomping purposefully—Jaskier only knew it was purposeful because he knew that the man could walk silent as a cat on wool if he needed to—and Ciri’s steps clacking along behind quickly.

“Got the herbs,” She said, breathlessly, “Eskel’s _fast.”_ She complained, setting the herbs down on the table and Ashwood hurried over to them to start sorting through them and getting something put together. Mieczyk had fallen asleep, cuddled by Lambert and Yennefer on the bed as Geralt leaned against the bedframe and watched the room warily.

Jaskier bit back the sigh he wanted to let loose at the predicament. This was supposed to be a _fun_ holiday. Not something tainted by unknown and potentially dangerous magic.

“We should head to Kaer Morhen,” Eskel said, stiffly. “We can’t take the children with us on the road and we need to figure out what’s going on.”

“We’re right here, you know,” Ashwood snapped, irritable, “And we’re still the same. We’re not actually _children.”_

Eskel’s face crumpled a little, though it was missed as Ashwood was focusing on his work at the table, “Right. Right, of course. Sorry.” He mumbled.

“But you do _look_ like children. And that’s…Not safe on the road.” Ciri said, softly. “I would know.” Geralt wandered over and lay a small hand over her own, and she smiled at him, patting his hand gently, “It’ll be alright. But we should stay somewhere safe until this is sorted out. Who knows what the purpose behind this was.”

“Second chances,” Lambert scoffed, shaking his head. It jostled Mieczyk a little, who whimpered as he roused a little, hiccupping breath starting back up again. Yennefer rubbed his shoulder gently to soothe him back down.

“Right. Of course.” Eskel scrubbed his eyes again, clearly feeling just as exhausted by the morning’s events as Jaskier was. “Cryptic. That’s great. Great start.”

“I’m doing my best!” Jaskier huffed, “That’s all I remember from what the old lady told me.”

“Old lady?” Eskel asked, confused.

“Some kind of blessing-made-curse, I think,” Aiden sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling again.

“Blurse,” Lambert grumbled, causing Mieczyk to let out a wet giggle, apparently not actually asleep and still clearly on the edge of tears. Jaskier’s heart clenched in his chest—and at this rate he was going to have to see a healer about that because this many chest pains in one morning was probably bad for his health.

“How are you all feeling, though?” Jaskier decided to ask, turning the questions away from the how for the moment.

Mieczyk’s big blue eyes peered at him with a baleful look—one Jaskier was _very_ familiar with, “Right, yes, aside from Mieczyk, how are we feeling?”

Yennefer raised her own eyebrow and tucked herself closer to Mieczyk, “Really, bard? The best you can do?”

Jaskier inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he exhaled slowly, “Just trying to find out if there’s anything else we can address immediately.”

“I’m hungry.” Geralt said, quietly, chewing on his lower lip anxiously.

“Okay. Hungry is something we can fix,” Jaskier nodded, grateful for Geralt’s comfort level with speaking up about his needs now—Ciri had really helped him open up a lot, and after the mountain, it was definitely something Jaskier appreciated.

“I’ll…I’ll go,” Aiden said, pulling himself up off the ground. “Uh…Geralt, do you…you can come help if you’d like?”

Geralt nodded and headed towards the door, before glancing down at himself and grimacing, “I…do we have anything else I can wear?”

Jaskier puffed his cheeks out on an exhale, trying to think about what they could do for clothes. Yennefer was on it, shuffling away from Mieczyk and to her feet, hobbling herself over to Geralt and waving her hand imperiously. Nothing happened.

Jaskier had seen her make the same motion thousands of times, to dress herself, to redress Geralt when she needed him to look presentable and didn’t want to wait for him to do it himself. Nothing.

She frowned and tried again, concentrating harder this time.

“Why isn’t it working?!” She stomped her foot and bared her teeth, glaring at the space between herself and Geralt. “It should work!”

“It’s…probably related to your age. When did your magic manifest?” Triss asked, her voice gentle.

“I was…fourteen? Fifteen?” Yennefer hums thoughtfully. “You have a point, Triss. Thank you.”

“Of course, Yennefer.” Triss smiles at her. “I’m not nearly as good at this as you are, but let’s see what we can do…” She concentrated on Geralt and flicked her wrist a little in his direction. Geralt closed his eyes tightly as he waited for the magic to wash over him and redress him.

Jaskier watched with amazement as the large shirt shrank down, the ends of it morphing into little black trousers that left Geralt’s feet and ankles bare. When the magic settled, he peeked open one dark green eye and took a look at himself, mildly impressed. 

“Thank you, Triss.” He said, stiffly, adjusting the alignment mostly out of something to do rather than an actual need to fix the way he looked, and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. His bright red hair tumbling to his shoulders in soft coils as he shook his head and looked up at Aiden. “I’m ready to go now.”

Aiden had to bite his lips together at being addressed so formally by a small child—even if he knew that child was a Witcher strong enough to give him a run for his money in a fair fight—and nodded, gesturing towards the door. They headed out and down to the inn to acquire food for the group.

Eskel pinched his nose in his fingers briefly, “Right. Okay. So. Breakfast and then what?” He asked the room.

Triss gave him a look, “Before we work on that, would anyone else like to wear something more than your old shirts?”

Ashwood turned from his work at the table, “If you’ll give me a minute to finish this up, I just need to grind these components together and add water to make a stronger salve for Mieczyk. Then I’d very much like to wear something more… more.” His wide, pale green eyes were serious. 

Triss smiled at him. “Of course. Take your time and I’ll be ready when you are. Yennefer? Lambert?” 

Yennefer turned to Triss, “You know what I like, Triss,” Yennefer’s voice was mildly imperious which was hilarious coming from such a young looking girl, her hunched back and lopsided features casting the whole noblewoman act into sharp relief. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Absolutely, dear,” Triss nodded, giving another look of hard concentration before focusing and flicking her wrist again. 

Yennefer’s chemise lengthened, cinching at the waist and becoming thicker, a kirtle covering the chemise. Her standard color palette of black and white decorated the kirtle in a stark brocade, fancy enough to be a noblewoman’s daughter. She ran a thin fingered hand through her short hair, the locks falling just below her jaw with a straight band of fringe over her forehead. 

“Would you like me to see to your hair?”

“If you would,” Yennefer tilted her head up and closed her eyes, completely relaxed. Triss wiggled her fingers and Yennefer’s hair lengthened and curled gently, pulling back off her face to expose her bright eyes and tanned skin, freckled where the sun hit her nose and cheeks. The style was pinned, allowing the curls to tumble down her back. Jaskier could have been convinced that Yennefer had only been shrunk down in size, rather than transformed a much younger version of herself with the changes.

“Thank you, Triss, dear,” Yennefer waved her hand dismissively.

“You’re very welcome. Lambert?” Lambert watched each of the transformations with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, impressed at the show of power. He shook his head shyly.

“I… Mieczyk’s asleep again,” He murmured.

“No ‘m not,” Mieczyk’s small voice mumbled from where he had cuddled into Lambert’s neck.

“You _were,”_ Lambert said fondly, his equally young tones endearing and sweet. Jaskier really would need to see someone about whatever his heart keeps doing about these tiny versions of his friends.

“I’m fine. I’m awake,” Mieczyk sat up with a wince, moving slowly and carefully and definitely _sounding_ more awake.

“Okay, fine,” Lambert said, not really moving to release him.

“Mieczyk? Would you like to wear something different?” Triss asked. Mieczyk thinks for a moment but before he can answer, Ashwood does it for him.

“I need access to his legs for the salve and then it needs to dry,” He said as he mixed ingredients in his bowl. “I’m sorry, Mieczyk.” He turned around, an apologetic look on his face.

Mieczyk shrugged, “That’s fine. Probably…probably easier not to have…” He gestured to his legs, “You know…Can’t move so well so having trousers isn’t…a great plan.”

“That’s entirely reasonable. We’ll address it once you’re taken care of. Lambert?”

The slightly larger boy grumbled but got out of the bed carefully, making sure not to jostle Mieczyk too much. He settled his feet on the ground and turned back to the small boy in the middle of the bed, “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Lambert.” Mieczyk rolled his eyes, his hands resting between his limp legs, “I _have_ done this before.”

“Right, sorry. Dumb question.” Lambert flushed bright red—enhanced by his similarly toned hair—and stood in front of Triss. “Don’t make me look like a fucking pompous ass, alright?”

Triss snorted, covering the laugh behind her hand and Jaskier cackled out loud.

“Melitele’s tits, I forgot how terrible your language was. I don’t remember you being this bad the first time around,” Eskel groaned, chuckling a little to himself.

“I know more curse words this time around,” Lambert shot back before startling into stock-stillness as Triss’s hand waved and his shirt morphs into a similar outfit to Geralt’s. Trousers that just brushed the tops of his ankles, his shirt tucked in with the sleeves loose around his wrists—his wasn’t all black, instead his shirt was a soft cream color and his trousers dark brown and buttoned at the ankles. “Shit, Merigold. Warn a man!”

“Sorry,” Triss giggled, not sounding very sorry at all.

Ashwood finished his salve and made his way over to Mieczyk, lifting the edge of his shirt a little to allow him to get onto the bed without spilling the contents of his bowl, “Lift the hem of your shirt for me, Mieczyk? I need to apply this to where it hurts most. If you could point me in the areas where it’s most painful?”

Mieczyk did as told, rucking his shirt up a little to his hips, just covering his modesty but allowing Ashwood access to his hips from the side and back, “It’s…it’s mostly the lower legs, but the hip joints are…It’s worse when I move.”

Ashwood humed in acknowledgement as he began applying the salve with his fingers to the indicated areas. Another hum, this one a little more distressed as he reached the twisted lower leg bones, ankles and feet, “How…How did this get fixed the first time?” His voice was soft and light, but the tone of concern is as old as the man was before he was de-aged.

“A…a hedge witch in the next town over offered to help if my parents would allow for experimental treatments on me as payment,” Mieczyk muttered. “They…offered for her to just take me,” He swallowed thickly and Jaskier watched Lambert’s small hands clench into useless fists at his sides, a muscle in the narrow jaw working as he clenched his teeth. “There were…a lot of experiments. The ones that worked best were the…she fashioned braces out of iron rods and hinges with the help of the blacksmith, to redirect my legs to the right positions. Like the ones I wear—she made those for me when I stopped growing,” He gestured towards the room he and Jaskier had shared with Geralt.

Jaskier stood, “I can go get them. Where would they be?”

“I took them off next to my bag. They should still be there,” Mieczyk said, his high voice shaking a little, “I’m…Ashwood you’re…you’re not going to like some of the stuff you see…” The last part was soft, nearly inaudible as Jaskier started out of the room, but he caught it and his heart broke.

“Tell me,” Ashwood’s jaw clenched and he took a sharp breath through his nose as Mieczyk adjusted his right leg, lifting it with a grimace. On the back of his thigh is an ugly scar, wrinkled and shiny—a burn, a deep one that had clearly been quite serious. It was straight across the back of his thigh, horizontal and narrow. Deliberate.

“It…didn’t hurt, before. I mean, before we got–” Mieczyk’s voice was still soft as he spoke to Ashwood, fumbling a little with the way to describe their current situation. Lambert started pacing like a caged animal. Yennefer bit her lips together and turned away. “It…I’m probably around…uh…I’m probably about eight right now, I guess, based on how bad this is. It’s…it’s about a year old if my memory holds. I forgot how bad it looked,” He spoke more to himself as he traced the line, wincing as he brushed along raw nerves. 

_“Shit,”_ Ashwood cursed softly, “Alright. We’re… we’ll address that later. Right now I need to… This salve isn’t good for burn scars,” He gestured with the bowl, “Let’s finish with this first.”

They finished painting the salve on Mieczyk’s joints and lower legs, allowing him to sit and dry while Ashwood washed off his hands and set the salve aside. 

“Lambert, come help me put these herbs away, please,” Ashwood ordered, instructing Lambert on where and how to store the herbs he’ll need to make further salves and pain relief for Mieczyk. When Lambert was sufficiently occupied, Ashwood turned back to Triss.

“Anything but a dress, please,” He directed, lifting his chin as though he’s going to be argued with. Triss only nodded, serious and somber as she changed Ashwood’s outfit into a matching one to Lambert and Geralt’s outfits, though in greens to match his undershirt and eyes.

“And would you like me to address your hair?” Triss asked, her voice even and calm, “It’s long but it doesn’t look bad.”

Ashwood brought his own hand to his hair for the first time all morning. Jaskier had been running his fingers through it and that had been nice but he would prefer it shorter. “If you could give me something similar to what I had…yesterday, I would be most grateful.”

Triss nodded with a kind smile, “Of course.” Her fingers wiggled and Ashwood felt a breeze along the back of his neck as the hair on the sides and back of his head was shortened and the hair from the top of his head pulled back into a loose looping bun. His scalp tingled a little as the bun bounced when he shook his head and he raised his hand to feel the hair. He nodded with a smile and a quiet thanks to Triss, his fingers brushing the fuzz of hair at the back of his neck.

“How long for the salve to dry?” Mieczyk asked, shifting a little on the bed, but trying not to get the sticky paste on the sheets.

“Shouldn’t be but a few more minutes,” Ashwood advised, as Jaskier came back in.

“Oh! Don’t you both look handsome,” He said brightly to Lambert and Ashwood. “Lambert aren’t you getting your hair done?”

“My hair is _fine.”_ Lambert grumbled, shoving the bright red fringe out of his face again, “Need to find my beeswax.” He wandered over to his bag in the corner and rummaged through it to find the beeswax pomade he normally slicked his hair back with. Ashwood was scowling but said nothing, just turned back to his things to pick up where Lambert left off.

The slicked back look made Lambert’s features sharper, more like he appeared as an adult, though the bright red hair was still a little shocking to Jaskier who had never known him with any other color hair but dark brown—though, maybe it was more auburn than brown now that he tried to think back on it.

Ashwood turned to Yennefer who shifted on the bed a heavy sigh, resting back against the pillows and wincing.

“I could help you, as well? I don’t know…I don’t know what pain relief methods work best for you but we could work on that?” Ashwood offered to Yennefer, biting his lip as he watched her settle into a more relaxed position to take the weight off of her spine and joints.

“I just need to sit down for now. At least this is more comfortable than a pigsty.” She muttered darkly, even as she opened her arm for Mieczyk to collapse into wearily.

“Agreed,” Mieczyk sighed, relaxing against Yennefer’s side.

“Ready for a new outfit, Mieczyk, dear?” Triss asked, coming to the other side of the bed and gingerly sitting down, “You don’t need to stand—I think everyone else did that because Geralt and Yennefer started it,” She chuckled a little.

“I was already standing,” Ashwood pointed out.

“I coulda stayed in bed?” Lambert whined, pouting, his full lower lip jutting out even further.

“Freya’s exposed nipples, this is adorable,” Jaskier whispered to himself, clutching the leg braces to his chest.

“Oh! Jask, you have my braces!” Mieczyk sat up a little and made a grabbing motion for the stiff iron-and-wood contraptions. Jaskier handed them over and Mieczky showed them to Triss. “I don’t know…I don’t know how much your magic can do, but if we can make these but smaller for my body now, that would be…It would help, I think?” He finished, his thoughts running together as he spoke. He pulled out the long stockings from where he had tucked them into the straps of the braces, shuffling around to tug the socks over his legs as he explained what he would like to try with the braces.

Triss nodded, “Let’s see what we can do.”

The room was quiet as Triss concentrated on the design of the braces, the shape of Mieczyk’s legs, and the formless shirt that rested on his tiny shoulders. Finally she twists her wrist, a slightly different motion than before, and the braces on the bed change shape, similarly shaped to Mieczyk’s own legs but just a bit straighter, a bit less twisted. A crease forms between her eyebrows as the braces are shifted, melting somehow underneath and around Mieczyk’s legs until his twisted limbs are settled in the braces with a pained grunt from him. Mieczyk squeaks a little, blushing brightly then, winces as the braces adjust around his ankles and knees.

Triss looked up at him sharply at his whine of discomfort, but he waved his hand, “It’s...I forgot how much it sucked to do this.”

“Is it too much? I can adjust them.”

“No, it’s…this is normal. It’s…You know when you get a new pair of shoes and the leather isn’t as supple? It’s a bit like that but for your bones. I just have to…It’ll take time.” He gestures at the braced limbs, “At least this way I can work to…get them back to where they were before this happened.” He said it so quietly it was almost like he hadn’t been talking to the rest of the room, his fair hair falling in his eyes as he leaned over his legs.

Yennefer rubbed his back gently from her spot on the bed, “We’ll get back to normal, you won’t have to go through the whole process again.” She says it so confidently that Jaskier almost believes she’s already got a plan. If he hadn’t seen the worry and fear in her eyes for a brief second before she pulled herself back together, he would have gone on believing it.

Jaskier desperately hopes they’re able to get everyone back to normal.

* * *

Aiden and Geralt came back bearing a boatload of food for the group. Everyone settled around the room to eat. Mieczyk and Yennefer took up part of the bed and Aiden budged up next to them with one of the trays he carried up. His second tray and the one Geralt had carried are set on the table where Ashwood had been working. Lambert, Ashwood and Geralt took up spots on the floor next to the bed on Aiden’s side, while Triss, Ciri and Jaskier settled around the table. Eskel ate while standing up near the now-closed door. 

The meal passed mostly in silence.

Finally Geralt sighed, setting down his bowl of porridge, and got to his feet. “Eskel is right,” He said solemnly, which was unbelievably adorable from someone who looked about eleven years old, “We need to get to Kaer Morhen. The library is extensive and might have something to help, plus it’s a good base of operations. Triss can use the megascope to contact other mages for help as well. And it will be safe.” He said the last part as if it was mildly distasteful and Jaskier thought he understood.

The five of them were adults just yesterday and now they were stuck in the bodies of their childhood selves. Previously capable and powerful people now rendered helpless—on the road was no place for them to be.

Jaskier nodded silently, even though he hated it as much as Geralt and Lambert seemed to.

“It’s sound logic,” Jaskier concluded, softly, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees, his hands pressed together in front of him, “It will be safest. And we don’t know…we don’t *really* know the purpose behind why this has happened. The old woman mentioned second chances but…who knows if that’s the real reason? It’s taken out five very powerful and capable people very quickly and we can’t…we can’t assume that it was benign intent gone awry until we know more about what it is.”

Triss and Yennefer exchanged a nod at this, and Ashwood stilled, his hands laying softly in his lap.

“It’s…it’s possible,” He agreed, chewing on his lower lip, “that there’s something more nefarious behind it. You mentioned she was old. Most mages appear young—that’s the purpose behind the ascension. Especially for…for women.” He clears his throat, his face growing pinkish with blood despite his darker skin tone.

Aiden reached down and rested his hand on Ashwood’s shoulder comfortingly, “So we head to Kaer Morhen. Good. How do we get there? We didn’t exactly come in with several young children and leaving without half our party is going to look a little strange.” He nodded at Eskel, “Plus two witchers from two different schools traveling together for a period of time is bound to raise eyebrows.”

Triss pinched her lower lip between her thumb and the knuckle of her forefinger, “I could create a portal but there’s a limit on how many can go through at a time. And I’m not nearly as proficient at it as Yennefer is—it will wear me out faster.”

“How many have you gotten to go through at once before?” Eskel asked, speaking for the first time in a while.

“My limit is five,” Triss admitted, “Counting myself. But that…I passed out afterwards and nearly didn’t make it through the portal.”

Eskel grunted, and Yennefer gave Triss an alarmed look, “You aren’t doing that.” She said, more an order than a question.

“We’d need to send someone along to warn Vesemir.” Lambert grumbled, scraping the bottom of his bowl with his spoon, mostly to make noise on purpose, but also because he wanted the very last of the porridge in his bowl because he was unexpectedly starving when he started in on the food. “Showing up with just the bunch of us like this is likely to give him a heart attack. Especially me and Geralt.” He gestured with his spoon as he spoke, “Cause it’s been…what, almost like seventy years since he saw me looking like this? Longer for you,” He addressed Geralt as he thought about the numbers, “You were, I don’t know, like…thirty when I got there? Something like that.”

“Twenty-five,” Eskel chuckled, shaking his head, “We were twenty-five, brat.”

“Fuck you!” Lambert said, more offended than actually upset, “That’s close enough to thirty. Might have been fifty for all I know. Maybe you’re lying to me!” He pointed with his spoon accusingly and noticed a splodge of porridge on the back side, and immediately popped the spoon into his mouth to clean it off. He spoke around the spoon, his words muffled and garbled as he did so, “Anyway, the old man needs a warning more than just ‘Here’s a bunch of kids and two of ‘em look like ones you’ve seen before!’”

“Agreed,” Geralt nodded, ignoring Lambert’s wild gesturing, “So…Limit three? We send Triss, Yennefer and Mieczyk.” His tone was sure and confident.

“Why us?” Yennefer asked, her face screwing up in irritation, “Why can’t you or Lambert go through? Portals are hard and Mieczyk doesn’t need to go through something like that with the pain he’s already in.”

“Hey, I’m right here!” Mieczyk snapped, pushing at her a little. Aiden shoved his arm around Mieczyk and between the two, effectively breaking them up.

“Alright, alright, hang on. Just… Let’s talk this out. Geralt, what’s your reasoning behind sending Triss, Yennefer and Mieczyk through?” Aiden asked, still keeping Yennefer and Mieczyk separated as they flailed at each other.

“The options for Yennefer and Mieczyk getting to Kaer Morhen are riding horses the whole time or going through a portal,” Geralt stated, simply, “And the portal will be easier on both of them than extended time riding.”

“Plus you hate portals,” Ciri piped in. Geralt grimaced and nodded.

“And I hate portals so I won’t go through it.”

Triss was nodding but her face was solemn, “I might be able to get a fourth through without putting us in danger—Eskel, would you–?”

Eskel turned his head away but nodded, “Yeah, sure. I’ll go,” he says before she can finish her sentence, “Fine.”

Yennefer leaned back on the bed, her arms crossed over her chest and a pout on her face. It was incredibly adorable, “I hate that you’re right, Geralt.”

“Sorry,” Geralt did not sound very sorry at all. 

“Okay. So we split up. Eskel and Triss take Yennefer and Mieczyk through the portal. Aiden, Ciri and I will escort Geralt, Lambert and Ashwood by horse. Great. Okay. Good. That’s a plan.” Jaskier clapped his hands together, rubbing them a little as he sat up. Having a plan was better than not having a plan, even if the plan was just “Get everyone to a secondary location safely.”


End file.
